Life on the Citadel
by Major Htom
Summary: Aw jeez. Rick was overpowered by Evil Morty and has trapped himself in his own mind until he can beat him. Morty is stuck in Mortytown, dealing with life without his Rick, trapped under Evil Morty's rule. Jessica is looking for her friend Morty and Rick and Summer after they suddenly disappeared. Also featuring other Ricks and Mortys. Will be violent in parts.
1. Trapped

Morty lay on his bed, thinking. A lot had happened that day. He never would have guessed that one trip to the Citadel of Ricks-or what _had_ been the Citadel of Ricks-would have led to him and his family ending up stranded there. He was lucky he'd come across another Morty willing to help. So there he was, lying on that Morty's bed, looking up at the ceiling with no emotion on his face.

Rick had lied straight to his face and Morty wasn't sure how to feel about that. Upset? Angry? Betrayed? Or D, all of the above? Rick's lies had cost Morty Jessica. Cost Summer her friends. Beth her job as a horse surgeon. And everyone Jerry. Rick was selfish. He didn't really care about anyone but him. Why else would he lie like that?

Morty turned on his right side to avoid Summer and Beth, who were sleeping on the floor. It was Rick's stupid fault that they were stuck in the dumb Citadel. In the dilapidated ghetto that was called Mortytown. Ugh. Stupid Ricks and their stupid superiority complex and their stupid class system. Though, from what Morty had seen tonight, there had been more than a few down on their luck Ricks living here too. But not _his_ Rick. Morty wasn't sure whether he ever wanted to see his Rick ever again.

There was a small knock on the door and a creak of the door opening. "Uh... Beth? Summer? S-Sad Morty?"

Morty turned over again onto his left side and saw that it was the Morty who'd put them up at his apartment.

"It's me, Morty J-255-B." He said.

Summer sat up first. "Hey."

"I just brought some sandwiches. Nothing fancy. Jus-Just bread and butter. It's all I can afford."

Beth sat up. "That's very kind of you-um..."

"You can call me, uh, Peg-Leg Morty. Everyone else does." He handed the plate to Beth before struggling to sit down on the floor.

"That's not very nice." Beth took a crudely made sandwich from the plate and passed it to Summer.

"Well, you're lucky you're the only Beth on the Citadel." Peg-Leg Morty said. "There are hundreds of thousands, _millions_ even, of me. And Rick. So we all have nicknames we go by. I'm Peg-Leg Morty because I have a prosthetic leg."

Morty sat up on the bed, his expression unchanging. "So what are you going to call _me_?" He asked.

"Well..." Peg-Leg Morty said thoughtfully. "You're the only Morty whose Beth and Summer are also here. How about... Family Morty?"

"Eh. Sure. I guess." Morty said with a sad sigh.

"Family Morty it is." Peg-Leg Morty said.

"So how _did_ life here get so bad?" Summer asked, taking a bite from her sandwich. "I mean, I was there when Grandpa Rick murdered the Council of Ricks and took down the Galactic Empire-"

"Galactic _Federation_." Peg-Leg Morty corrected.

"Or whatever." Summer shrugged. "But how did it get _this_ bad?"

"After the Council of Ricks, uh, went, there was a democratic election-for the first time." Peg-Leg Morty began. "A Morty won."

"I can't really imagine how that would be a bad thing. You know. For Mortys." Summer said.

"It wasn't at first." Peg-Leg Morty said. "But..." He inhaled sharply. "There's a reason I live here in Mortytown. And it's _him_."

"So how do we stop him? Evil Morty." Summer asked. "There's got to be a way, right?"

"I'm afraid the only person who can now is _your_ Rick." Peg-Leg Morty said.

"But Grandpa Rick can't do it." Summer argued. "He's in a coma."

"Unless he's lying about that too." Morty said.

"Morty!" Beth admonished. "I know my father is a terrible person, but I don't think he'd lie about something like _that_. As a surgeon, it's my medical opinion that he can't-"

"You're a horse surgeon, Mom." Morty said. "Rick's not a horse. He's a horrible, lying, nasty fucking sack of human shit."

Summer rose to her feet. "Morty-don't speak that way about Grandpa Rick!"

"The sooner you accept it, Summer, the better it will be for you. He doesn't care."

"Just because he's not your original Rick, doesn't mean he doesn't care about you, Morty."

Morty rose to his feet. "Then why is there an Evil Morty running the Citadel like a dictatorship?! That's where hanging around with Rick will get me!" He paused, looking around at everyone staring at him. "I don't want to be like that."

"Grandpa Rick wouldn't want you to turn out like that either." Summer said quietly.

"Then how did Evil President Morty, as Rick's _original_ Morty, turn out like that?" Morty asked.

"Each Morty is different somehow." Peg-Leg Morty interjected. "Maybe he was just... Predisposed to be like that."

"If that was supposed to make me feel better, it's not working." Morty said.

Peg-Leg Morty simply nodded and sighed. He gripped the bed and used it to pull himself up.

"Do you need any help?" Beth asked.

"No, I've done this before. I-I'll be fine." Peg-Leg Morty said as he stood on his feet, rocking slightly. "See?"

"So, uh..."

"Peg-Leg Morty."

"Yeah, Peg-Leg Morty. God it feels weird saying that." Summer said. "So Peg-Leg Morty, what's going to happen to Mom and me? I know we're not supposed to be on the Citadel. But we can't exactly get home. And I can't leave Grandpa Rick here like this."

"Well, I suppose you're going to have to stay here. In my apartment." Peg-Leg Morty said. "It's not a permanent solution, but it's better than turning you over to that cybernetic dictator."

"He's cybernetic?" Beth asked.

"If he's cybernetic, I bet Rick did that." Morty said.

Beth turned serious. "Has he experimented on _you_ like that?"

"Uh... Aw jeez, Mom, you know, you can't expect me to-"

"Did he put cybernetic implants inside you, Morty?" Beth asked, this time more stern.

"No, not-not technically."

"Yes or no."

"Uh... No. No." Morty said quickly. The truth was, of course, that Rick had been experimenting on him. Mainly to try to turn him into a car, but who knows what else Rick had actually done. "If our Rick has cybernetic technology, then _all_ Ricks do."

"Then why haven't they cured disease or disability or whatever?" Summer asked, shifting the subject slightly.

"They have. Rick J-19-Alpha-7 has cured cancer in his universe and Rick Alpha-250-Gamma has cured AIDS in his." Peg-Leg Morty explained. "Paralysis isn't an issue that tends to affect Ricks. Mental illness, I think they just don't care. And autism, well, all Ricks are autistic. Why would they cure, you know, what makes them Rick?"

"Grandpa Rick has autism?" Summer asked, eyes open wide in shock.

"Yeah. But we prefer 'is autistic' here on the Citadel." Peg-Leg Morty said. "You and... Beth and Allistic Morty and Birdperson are the only four non autistic people on this entire Citadel."

"Okay. So what about your missing leg?" Summer asked, looking down at Peg-Leg Morty's legs.

"Well... Landlord Rick gave me a super sophisticated robot leg. But it still doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like mine. I mean, I still have to take it off and my stump still gets sore and painful, but since you haven't lost any limbs, I don't think you'd understand."

Summer sat there stunned that in a city of super intelligent elderly scientists, none of them were either able to or didn't want to cure disability. Disease, sure, but not disability. She was left wondering really why that was.

Morty, meanwhile, was thinking about Birdperson. He definitely witnessed the human-bird hybrid alien thing get murdered by-ugh-Tammy and the Galactic Federation. But what if he'd survived? What if it was a different Birdperson? Would he still know him? Would he be able to tell him more about Rick and his motivations for lying?

Beth simply sat, eating her simple sandwich in the silence.

The thumping at the door startled everyone.

"Morty! I know there's a Beth and a Summer in here!" A Rick's voice called out.

"Oh shit, oh shit, aw jeez-we're done for." Peg-Leg Morty panicked.

"Open up! It's me! I-I-it's Landlord Rick!"

Peg-Leg Morty let out a sigh of relief and limped out of the room, leaving his guests. He went over to the front door and looked out of the peep hole. Sure enough, it _was_ Landlord Rick.

He could tell Landlord Rick from his dirty, stained blue suit and his different hairstyle. While most Ricks had their blue hair up in spikes, Landlord Rick had cut his hair short and tried to look a presentable landlord. Only he was living in poverty himself, hence the filthy suit. But at least he tried.

Peg-Leg Morty opened the door. "H-hey, Landlord Rick."

"Where's the Beth and * _urp_ * Summer?" Landlord Rick wiped the drool from his mouth with his sleeve.

"Uh..."

"I'm not gonna hur-hurt them, Morty." Landlord Rick said quietly. "I just want to kn* _urp_ *w how they got to the Citadel."

Peg-Leg Morty beckoned Landlord Rick inside and shut the door after them "Their Rick is... C-137." He said in the quietest possible voice.

"Ro-Rogue Rick?"

Peg-Leg Morty nodded.

Landlord Rick ran his hand through his head. "Jesus... I-I heard he's in a coma. That, uh, that true?"

"Well, he has connections to President Morty." Peg-Leg Morty said. The two were still speaking in hushed voices to each other. "You'll probably hear about it on the Citadel Morning News tomorrow."

Landlord Rick grunted in agreement. "He'll probably use it for prop-propag* _urp_ *nda." He looked around Peg-Leg Morty's apartment. "So the Beth and Summer...?"

"In there." Peg-Leg Morty pointed to his bedroom.

Landlord Rick nodded and walked over to it, opening the door.

Inside, Beth looked ready to fight, as did Summer.

"Come near either of my kids and I swear to you that I will destroy you-you aren't my father! You're just one of infinite versions of him and-"

"Hello, I'm Landlord Rick." He greeted, not fazed by Beth's outburst. "Welcome to my building and welcome to the Citadel of Ri-" He stopped himself from going further. "The Citadel. Breakfast rations are at seven am sharp at my apartment-it's 3.1. I look forward to seeing you."

Beth looked at this version of her father in confusion. "Wait... You _don't_ want to turn us over to President Morty?"

Landlord Rick scoffed. "Why would I? I'm a _Rick_. A-and I'm just as m* _urp_ *ch of a victim of Evil Morty a-a-as everyone else in this building. You three included."

"You're some kind of sanctuary, then?" Summer asked.

"Well... I s-suppose so." Landlord Rick shrugged. "Never thought about it that-that way before. Now, my-my Morty's D-Deaf Morty. He's the uh, handyman around here. Go to * _urp_ * him if anything, you know, needs repairing. If you-you need any supplies, go to Shop Assistant Rick. He'll steal you what you need."

Summer put her hand on her hip. "Stealing is wrong."

"Yes it is." Landlord Rick agreed. "But letting you starve or go with*urp-* without fem-feminine items would be worse."

"Why are you being nice to us? You're a _Rick_." Morty asked.

"So Rick's can't-can't be nice now?" Landlord Rick asked. "Not all Ricks are the same. I mean, I-I've never uh... Never met a Summer before. And I do-don't have a Beth."

"Wow." Summer blinked.

"Yep. We're * _urp_ *ll individuals here." Landlord Rick paused quickly. "I-to a-an extent. That's what's President Morty doesn't see-like to see."

"Grandpa Landlord Rick, are you drunk?" Summer asked.

"You would be too if-if," Landlord Rick wiped his drool away again, "you lost what I have. I-I mean, I got my uh, my Mortys. They're... All good. All safe. But-but I worry, Summer and Beth. Evil President Morty is planning s* _urp_ *mething. I know it." He took his flask from his pocket and took a sip from it.

Beth watched on in silence, before speaking up. "So... What do I call you?"

"Landlord Rick."

"I mean, with an alternate you being my dad and all-"

"Landlord Rick."

"Landlord Rick?" Beth repeated.

"Yep."

"And what about me?" Summer asked. "Do I just call you Grandpa Landlord Rick, or-"

"Just Landlord Rick." He said. "You-You're not _my_ daughter and granddaughter. You're Rogue Rick's." He paused in case either wanted to speak up again.Â

"Right, well... Breakfast is at seven in my apartment." He turned to leave. "Good to... Nice to have you around."

* * *

Rick opened his eyes groggily and pushed himself into a seated position on the floor. He put his hand to his head with a pained expression.

"Jesus Christ. What did that dumb ass fucking Morty do?"

"He tortured you, Rick." A female voice said.

Rick looked up, only to see Morty's friend Jessica. "What-what the hell are _you_ doing on the Citadel of Ricks?"

"Rick, Rick, Rick." Jessica chuckled. "We're not on the Citadel of Ricks. Not any more."

"Are we on Earth?" Rick asked.

"No." Jessica shook her head. "We're in your brain. Which you shut down. Smooth move, by the way." She looked around. "Now I get why you didn't do this when you were in the Galactic Federation prison. I mean, it'd totally interfere with your plans to bring down the Federation and the Council of Ricks. How did _that_ work out for you?"

"It worked out _fine_." Rick said defensively.

"Really?" Jessica chuckled lightly. "Alright then. Take a look around. We're trapped in your coma brain. Well... _You_ are. _I'm_ just a manifestation of your thoughts."

"Why are you my grandson's friend?" Rick asked as he pulled himself to his feet.

"I don't know, Rick." Jessica said. "Would you rather I take the form of your dearly departed friend Birdperson? Your grandson Morty? Your _current_ Morty? Or how about your ex ex-wife-"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point." Rick growled. "Now let me out."

"Actually, Rick," Jessica began, "you made your bed. Now you're going to have to lie in it. At the Sanchez General Hospital's ICU, if I'm not mistaken."

"Morty wouldn't take me to hospital-not that I need it anyway. I know what I'm doing to my body-"

"If that were true, Rick, why would I be here?" Jessica asked to silence from Rick. "That's what I thought. But you're going to have to stop your grandson. Your _actual_ grandson."

"I know." Rick said bitterly.

"Work with me here, Rick!" Jessica snapped. "Do you want to be trapped here with the sources of all your pain? The memories of 'Pers', your failing marriage, caring for Summer C-137?"

"Sum-Sum." Rick closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

"Sum-Sum?" Jessica raised an eyebrow, before quickly shaking her head. "I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Past, Rick. I'm not here to help you deal with your troubled past and descent into suicidal alcoholism. But we are stuck here, so you have a choice."

"I don't want to think about it." Rick said.

"Oh of course you don't. That's why you attempted suicide in your daughter's garage after Unity left you again."

"How do you know that?" Rick asked defensively. "You're just Morty's friend! The stupid little idiot."

"I told you." Jessica said. "I'm not _really_ Jessica. You know who I am, Rick. And you know you don't really think that way about Morty. Any Morty."

Rick clenched his teeth. "You're really getting on my nerves."

"Good." A chair appeared out of the whiteness surrounding the two of them and Jessica sat down on it. "A chair, Rick?"

Another chair appeared. Rick huffed and sat down. "This isn't going to be like Freudian therapy is it?"

"No. I was just offering you a place to sit. You know, since we're going to be here a while." Jessica said casually.

"How long?"

"You tell me, Rick. This is _your_ mindscape after all." Jessica crossed her ankles. "Tell me about the Mulan McDonalds Sezchuan sauce."

* * *

Jessica was walking home from school. On the way, she passed by the Smith residence and noticed Rick's space cruiser in the open garage. She stayed there, standing on the sidewalk for a few seconds, just looking. Until Morty's father left through the front door with Morty's mother.

"Hey, Mr and Mrs Smith." Jessica greeted pleasantly.

"Oh, hello, Jessica." Jerry greeted.

Â "I was just-Morty wasn't at school today. Is he on an adventure with his grandfather?"

"You know about that?" Jerry asked.

"I know about a lot of things." Jessica said.

"Oh relax, Jerry, she's Morty's only friend." Beth said. "Yes, Jessica, Morty's on an adventure with his grandfather. Is there anything you want to say to him? I could tell him you called by when he comes back."

"Oh. No thanks, Mrs Smith." Jessica shook her head quickly and hiked her purse up her shoulder. "I know Morty's not at school a lot but Mr Goldenfold set important homework."

"Well, I could give it to him." Jerry offered.

"I think I'd prefer to give it to him myself." Jessica said. "Just tell him I stopped by." She began to walk once again and waved to Morty's parents. "Bye, Mr and Mrs Smith."

"Will do. Bye, Jessica." Beth waved back.

"Yeah, bye." Jerry said.

As she walked up the street, Jessica felt something wasn't quite right. She didn't know what it was, but she definitely felt uneasy.

* * *

 **A/N: My first Rick and Morty fic, though I've been planning it since the end of season 2. It's a good thing that I held off because since then we've had season 3 and the wonderful episode The Ricklantis Mixup! On top of that, we've had in-universe confirmation that Rick is autistic and probably Morty too! Hooray! So I've incorporated that.**

 **The story is based on the theory that our Morty is not Rick's original Morty and Evil Morty is actually Morty C-137, or Rick's original Morty.**

 **This story will follow Rick, primarily. C-137, I mean. In his coma brain. And give insight into possibly how he ended up being the Rick he is-some are meaner, like the Council of Ricks and some are nicer, like Cop Rick. None of what I write is likely to ever become canon, so just take it as it is. However, other major characters will be Manifested Jessica (or the 'Jessica' in Rick's mind), Morty, Beth, Summer, Jerry, Beth's clone, Jessica, Jessica's friend (who here will be named Reagan after her voice actress) and Evil Morty, though we will get looks at other Ricks and Mortys on the Citadel (including Morticia and Cop Rick) as well as some other original Ricks and Mortys, like Landlord Rick and Birdperson. Where did he come from? Find out.**

 **Not all the action will take place on the Citadel. Some of it (the bits without the Ricks and Mortys) will take place in the Replacement Dimension.**

 **There will be portrayals of different kinds of disabilities, most commonly autism, but there will be a blind Morty, a deaf Morty, a few amputee Mortys (and Ricks) among others. So if you don't like to see disabilities not portrayed as tragic, this story isn't for you.**

 **Cool?**

 **Cool.**


	2. The Ricksistance

" _Citadel Morning News. News about the Citadel in the morning. Pretty self explanatory_."

" _Hello and good morning._ _I'm Rick D-716-B_."

" _And I'm Rick D-716. It's six am, so it's time for the morning headlines."_

Morty stirred, hearing the voices from the other room. Or voice. It sounded like it was just Rick talking.

" _Coming up; President Morty signs Prop Zeta-25-G into law, lowering the drinking age to fourteen._ "

Morty sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up.

" _And President Morty celebrates a major victory against Rick C-137, also known as Rogue Rick."_

 _"C-137? Oh boy I'd hate to be him_."

Careful not to wake his mother and sister, who were sleeping on the floor, Morty crept to the other side of the room and opened the door. The voices were coming from the TV.

" _So would I. I mean, I'm Rick, but I'm not that Rick!_ "

" _Those stories and more, after these, um, commercials_."

"Aw jeez, Family Morty." Peg-Leg Morty turned the TV volume down. "I didn't see you there."

"That's fine, I guess." Morty said. "I heard Ricks and thought... I-I dunno. The worst."

"It's just the Citadel Morning News." Peg Leg Morty said. "Would you... Like to watch?" He asked with a shrug. "I mean it's-it's all propaganda now anyway. But uh, they're talking about your Rick."

"He's not my Rick." Morty said sternly.

Peg-Leg Morty said nothing, but turned the TV volume back up.

"... _For all Ricks_."

" _Welcome back. We have been informed that our top story should be the conquering of Rick C-137_."

" _Yesterday, during the Rick-all-_ "

" _Rick-all? You can do better than that_."

" _And I'm sure you can too, D-716-B_."

" _Of course I can. I'm you, dipshit_."

" _So yesterday, during the Rick-all_ -"

"Are they always like this? And why does that one have a scar on his face?" Morty asked.

"Yeah, they don't really like each other." Peg-Leg Morty said.

" _Apparently C-137 is President Morty's original Rick. That makes our Glorious President_ -"

Morty looked at the TV in disgust. "Suddenly he's Kim Jong-Un? I'm Kim Jong-Un?"

"Who?"

"Dear Leader. The dictator of North Korea."

"Oh." Peg-Leg Morty nodded. "Right. In my dimension, there is no North Korea. There's just one Korea, but they've been at war for like seventy years."

"Technically the same in mine." Morty said. "It's weird and complicated."

"... _Is at Sanchez General Hospital._ "

" _Surprised he's not at Mortimer Memorial Hospital_."

" _Our brilliant President Morty knows what he's doing, D-716_."

" _True. Nobody does a better job of caring for injured Ricks than Rick L73-D, better known as ICU Consultant Rick_."

"What?" Morty squinted. "Sanchez General Hospital? Mortimer Memori-what is that?"

"Sanchez General is a hospital for Ricks. Mortimer Memorial is a hospital for Mortys." Peg-Leg Morty explained. "It's nothing to do with classism. It's just... us Mortys, we-we're kids. The Ricks are, well, they're geriatric. We have different medical needs, you know?"

" _C-137's current Morty is presently on the run and he's hiding out somewhere on the Citadel_."

" _It shouldn't be too hard to find him, however, as he can be identified with his two accomplices, a Beth and a Summer_."

" _It is important they all be found and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, so anyone with any information is to call this hotline immediately."_ The scar faced Rick on the news pointed below him as a hotline number popped up above him. " _Real mature you pieces of shit."_

" _Now onto the next story. Prop Zeta-25-G. It would allow the sale of alcohol to Citadel inhabitants, no matter how young they are_."

" _This is not to be confused with Prop Theta-25-G, which bans portalling to all, except the Citadel Armed Forces._ "

There was a rhythmic knock on the door, almost like Morse Code. Peg-Leg Morty seemed to recognise it as he stood up and limped to the front door and opened it.

"Aw jeez, did you hear on the news?" Another Morty asked.

Morty stood up defensively.

Peg-Leg Morty simply stood to one side and allowed the other Morty inside. But he did so very nervously, as if there may be someone else watching-and there might well have been.

The other Morty looked weird. And Morty had seen a version of him as a hammer and another with antennae. The other Morty was covered in feathers, but was still wearing Morty clothes. He also had an orange beak and wings and yet he seemed to have fingers-almost like a living Donald Duck cartoon.

"I sure did." Peg Leg Morty said. "Aw jeez."

"Who's that?" The other Morty pointed at Morty.

Peg-Leg Morty looked at Morty and then back at the other Morty. "Duck Morty, this is Family Morty. His-his Rick is C-137."

"Aw jeez." Duck Morty could say nothing else. He stood there looking at Morty

"I know." Morty said after a few awkward seconds.

Peg-Leg Morty cleared his throat. "Family Morty, this is my friend Duck Morty. He lives across from me."

"Duck Morty?"

"I'm from a world where everyone's a duck." Duck Morty said. "My original Rick was Duck Rick. He uh... was killed. I had another Rick. Who was, um, also killed."

"S-s-sorry to hear that." Morty said.

"It happens." Duck Morty said with a kind of shrug. "So... Where's the Beth and Summer?"

"Duck Morty!" Peg-Leg Morty hissed. "You can't just-"

"Relax, they said it on the news." Duck Morty said. "That the, uh, fugitive Morty was hiding out with a Beth and a Summer. Does-Does Landlord Rick know?"

"Yeah, Landlord Rick knows."

"And he's just okay with that?" Duck Morty asked sceptically.

"Well, Duck Morty, he's kept us safe so far. Why would you think he wouldn't?" Peg-Leg Morty asked.

"Breakfast rations are at seven. I heard that Shop Assistant Rick stole something good from the Morty Mart." Duck Morty said. "I'd... Better get ready for that. Bye, Peg-Leg Morty. And Family Morty."

Duck Morty waved and looked cautiously down the hall, left and right, before leaving and closing the door softly behind him.

"What's that about?" Morty asked.

"It's hard to know who to trust any more. Since President Morty took power." Peg-Leg Morty said. "You'd best wake your family up, Family Morty. Breakfast will be in three quarters of an hour."

* * *

"Interesting." Jessica said.

"What is?" Rick asked.

They were still sitting down in their chairs with the white background of Rick's mind.

"That you won't tell me about the Szechuan sauce." Jessica replied.

"You want to know? Fine!" Rick snapped. "It was never about the sauce! I just want that feeling back. It was 1998. I'd left my family and I was living with Birdperson. It was the last taste of freedom I'd get before we went to jail for opposing the stupid, shitty Galactic Federation."

"And how did you meet Birdperson?"

"None of your damn business how I met Birdperson. You're my mind. You know how I met Birdperson."

"You're right. I do." Jessica stood up and the scene around them changed colour from white to a sort of light blue. "And you're sad." She noted.

"Damn right I'm sad." Rick stood up after her. "This colour's bumming me out."

"Well, you created it." Jessica shrugged.

"Wait, I did what now?" Rick asked. "I didn't do anything."

"Oh, did I not tell you... this is your subconscious." Jessica said sarcastically.

"I think you did." Rick said with a slight snarl.

Jessica hummed and put her finger at the back of the chair, dragging her finger along as she walked.

"Can you _not_ do that?" Rick grunted. "I mean, it's bad enough I gotta have you here. I don't want you touching my mind up either. I don't even want to talk to you."

"Yes. You made that completely evident when you tried to transform yourself into a pickled cucumber." Jessica said. "Fear not, Rick. I've already told you I'm not a therapist. Or the Ghost of Christmas Past. But here's the thing; you can't run from your own mind."

"Uh huh." Rick nodded. "Can we just wrap this up?"

"Let me finish, Rick." Jessica snapped. "You did this to yourself. I didn't put you in a coma. I'm not the part of your mind that comes up with asinine ideas or forces you to take drugs and drink so much alcohol that makes it a miracle you're alive. That part of your mind is in _you_." She poked him in the chest.

"Then who are you?"

"The Ghost of Coma Present." She said with a serious look on her face. "Rick, I'm your subconscious mind. And not to beat it over your head, but the reason I've taken on the form of your grandson's friend is because you care about him."

"I don't!" Rick shouted, almost as if it were an insult among Ricks to care about their families. "Morty's expendable! There are hundreds of thousands of them-"

"And you've had three. Yet there's something about this Morty you currently have that you like."

Rick gave a noncommittal grunt in response.

"You know it to be true."

"Hypothetically, if I agreed with you, what would that mean?"

"It would mean that you're human." Jessica said with a shrug.

"I'm not human! I'm a god! I'm smart-so much smarter than everyone else-"

"You're fallible, Rick. And that's your biggest fear." Jessica said.

Rick backed off immediately.

"You're not a god. You just have genius intelligence. Well, we do. Since I'm you."

"You're not me."

"You ever hear that little voice in the back of your head saying 'tell Beth you love her after you got your arm ripped off by a Froopy bird in a world that was supposed to free of danger and offer to make her a clone so she could leave and not do what you did because that was shitty'?"

Rick looked at her blankly, debating his next words carefully.

"Or perhaps 'get Morty that selfie with the President that he's wanted for so long because that's your way of telling him you love him too'." Jessica shrugged. "Maybe that voice said 'I am so proud of Summer right now', 'you know, I kind of miss Snuffles'-that's _my_ voice."

"I don't think that." Rick said, turning away.

Jessica chuckled. "You do. You just have trouble with empathy. So you push everyone whose name isn't Squanchy or Birdperson away."

"Don't mention Birdperson." He snarled.

"You're right. That one's still kinda raw." She nodded in agreement. "But you're only human after all, it goes without saying you'd miss him. He was your best friend."

Rick cast his gaze to the blue floor.

"You didn't push _him_ away. Why push your family away?" Jessica asked. "Squanchy and Birdperson-they were aliens. Your family aren't so you're afraid if you let them in that they'll see someone human. Someone who makes mistakes."

"I don't make mistakes-"

"Just because you erased them from Morty's memory doesn't mean you don't have those memories. 'Take it for granite'? That's a stone. Why would you-"

"It makes sense _now_." Rick angrily folded his arms.

"You like to give the sense that you're omnipotent and know everything. The truth is, you're a seventh year old super genius who is still learning. Not just about aliens and stuff, but about humans and the way they work. Their idioms. Social conventions."

"I know social conventions." Rick muttered.

"Ha. No you don't." Jessica held her palm out and a magic wand materialised. She gave it a wave, ignoring the confused looking Rick standing next to her, and a box full to the top with movie reels came out of nowhere.

"Let's see. Where is it?" She crouched down on her knees and rummaged through the box.

"What are you looking for?" Rick asked.

"Sit back down, sit back down." Jessica said casually. "We're just doing to do something I like to call... Rick's Mindblowers. Ah-ha!" She took out a reel that read 'Rick therapy'.

"Is this Pick-"

Jessica shook her head with a sadistic grin. "It's not Pickle Rick."

"Oh fuck."

* * *

Morty, Beth and Summer were standing around Peg-Leg Morty as he knocked on the door of an apartment, the same rhythmic knocking that Morty had heard earlier.

Landlord Rick answered. He looked nervously left to right and hurried the four inside his apartment without saying a word.

"Why do you knock like that?" Morty asked.

"It's Morse Code." Peg-Leg Morty said.

"For what?" Morty asked.

"One, nine, eight and four." Another Morty said. This one was heavily tattooed and had sleeve tattoos on both of his arms. "Hi. I'm Tattoo Artist Morty." He put his hand out politely.

"Okay." Morty tentatively shook his hand, as did Beth and Summer.

"He lives above us." Peg-Leg Morty said. "On this floor."

"You can probably guess what I do for a living." Tattoo Artist Morty chuckled awkwardly.

"So why one, nine, eight and four?" Morty asked.

"Wait, I get it." Summer said. "Nineteen Eighty-Four. The book about perpetual war, government control and observation and media manipulation!"

"Summers are smart." Landlord Rick said proudly. "Yep. That's exactly right. President Morty tries to control us by watching us and manipulating our media. All news has to be about him."

"The News Anchor Ricks called him 'glorious president'." Morty said.

"Yeah. Disgusting." Another Morty said. He was wearing sunglasses and was sat on Landlord Rick's tattered couch reading in Braille. This Morty was probably Blind Morty. "By the way, I'm Blind Morty."

"And I'm his Rick, Shop Assistant Rick." A smiling Rick said. "Can I steal you anything today?"

"Uh..." Morty winced slightly.

"Tampons." Summer said. "You do have tampons right?"

"Yeah, but we only have Playtex Sport." Shop Assistant Rick said as he made a note in his notebook. "No Tampax. That okay?"

"Whoa. You _actually_ have Tampons?" Summer asked.

"Sure." Shop Assistant Rick said. "There _are_ female Ricks and Mortys on the Citadel you know. Though the female Ricks don't tend to need Tampons. Being seventy and all. You still want those tampons?"

"Uh yeah!" Summer said enthusiastically. "The only pants I have are white."

"I can steal you more clothes. I mean, they'll be Rick clothes. But clothes are clothes, right?"

"Yes. Please do." Beth said before Summer could answer.

Shop Assistant Rick turned to Morty. "Morty clothes for you, right?"

"I'm-I'm good." Morty said. "For clothes."

More Morse Code knocking had Landlord Rick opening his door again.

"Hello, Landlord Rick." A familiar monotone voice said. "I have been looking forward to your daily rations. I am quite hungry."

"Anything you want, Birdperson." Landlord Rick said.

"Hey, Landlord Rick."

"Hey, Paralysed Morty."

A Morty entered using a wheelchair.

That shocked Morty. He'd never thought about that happening to him. He was more concerned with being evil and Rick not caring about him than being so horribly injured that his Rick no longer wanted him. Though evidently it was a sad possibility.

The Morty was followed by someone Morty long thought to be dead-mainly because he witnessed the murder-Birdperson.

"I didn't think they had more Birdpeople-Birdpersons?" Summer shrugged. "But given there's Hunger Games Summer and a whole city of Grandpas and Mortys there's probably going to be more than just one of Grandpa's friends."

"I-I guess." Morty rubbed his arm awkwardly.

"Hello, Blind Morty. Hello, Allistic Morty. Hello, Duck Morty. Hello, Tattoo Artist Morty. Hello, Peg-Leg Morty. Hello, Blind Morty. Hello, Shop Assistant Rick. Hello, Dental Nurse Morty." Birdperson greeted everyone in the room. He turned to Morty, Beth and Summer. "Hello, Morty."

"Uh, F-Family Morty."

"You are Beth. And you must be Summer. I am-"

"Grandpa's friend Birdperson." Summer said.

"How do you-"

"We've met." Beth said. "Well, our dimension's Birdperson. He got married."

"Mom." Summer hissed.

"I'm only saying the truth, Summer." Beth said.

"Well, this is all of us." Landlord Rick said. "Deaf Morty's in the kitchen making breakfast."

Blind Morty put his hand up.

"Yes, Blind Morty."

"Is Wheelchair Morty not joining us this morning?"

"No, he'd rather wallow in his own self pity." Landlord Rick said evenly. "Alright. Oath time."

The Mortys raised their arms and let their wrist go limp. The result had their fingers resembling an 'M' shape-intentional, they were Mortys.

The Ricks did the same, but their index fingers curled over their middle fingers-which bent inwards-leaving their ring and pinkie fingers free. It made an 'R' shape. R for Rick.

Birdperson made a sort of 'OK' sign with his fingers, only his middle finger curled over his index finger. His ring and pinkie fingers curled next to his middle finger.

"Morty, follow the Morty symbol. Beth, you follow Birdperson's symbol-yep, that's... we'll work on it." Landlord Rick said. "And Summer... hmm." He frowned in thought. "Oh, I know! Do this."

He held his hand up vertically. His index finger was curled down only slightly, his thumb stuck out his other fingers were curled down into a fist, which made an 'S' shape.

"Like this?" Summer asked, copying the symbol.

Landlord Rick nodded. "Yep." He went back to his own 'R' symbol. "Right. Oath."

Everyone recited the same thing. "Dictator Morty will not control us. His forces will not beat us. Dictator Morty will be defeated. We will beat him."

"Good oath. Good oath." Landlord Rick said. Everyone relaxed their hands.

"That sounded more like an affirmation than an oath." Summer pointed out.

"Same difference." Landlord Rick said. "Right. We have a few orders of business today before we get down to rations. First, I'd like to introduce our new members, Summer, Beth and Family Morty! Family Morty used to be Rogue Rick's Morty."

Murmurs filled the room.

"Second, as you may have heard, we're down a member. Pilot Morty was... Tragically murdered by Dictator Morty's Guard. So we're down an apartment." Landlord Rick clicked his tongue.

Another Morty came from the kitchen carrying a tray of food.

Landlord Rick turned to him and signed to him.

The Morty nodded and set the tray down on the nearest table.

"Okay, Breakfast Rations are ready. Don't forget to thank Shop Assistant Rick for stealing us some bacon! One strip for everyone, be frugal with the cereal and the milk. We're on rations, people!"

Everyone dived on the tray, except Summer.

"So what's going on here, like?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" Landlord Rick asked.

"The weird affirmation, the references to Evil Morty being a dictator, the meeting, you call us 'members', the Nineteen Eighty-Four Morse Code knocking-"

"Get to the point."

"This is a Resistance Army, isn't it?" Summer asked.

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, Summer. Yes it is. You're in a resistance army against a version of your brother who is evil.**

 **Rick's in a losing battle with his subconscious mind. More confessions to come. I don't think they're true for our Rick, but they possibly could be for some Rick out there. I don't know. It's just fun to speculate.**

 **Why is Wheelchair Morty wallowing in self pity? Well I can tell you it's not because of his disabilities. But I can't tell you why. Because that will be revealed in time.**

 **And what's going to come of Rick's Mindblowers? Find out soon, I guess.**


	3. TheRickpy

After breakfast, everyone dissipated and Landlord Rick was left in his apartment alone with Deaf Morty. There was still a little bit of fruit and bacon left.

 _Morty. I'm going to take this to Wheelchair Morty_. Landlord Rick signed.

I'm surprised he didn't come up for breakfast. Deaf Morty signed back.

Landlord Rick rolled his eyes. _He's self pitying again_.

Deaf Morty grunted in annoyance. _He always does. Go now. Before he starves_. He sat down in front of the TV and turned it on.

Landlord Rick picked up the plate, pocketed a flashlight and left the room. He looked carefully down the hall before making his way downstairs, coming to a stop outside room 1.2.

One quick tap, four slightly longer taps (one) Quick pause. Four more slightly longer taps and another quick tap (nine). Quick pause. Three more slightly longer taps and two quick taps (eight). Quick pause. Four quick taps and a slightly longer tap (four).

Landlord Rick looked down the hall nervously again. Almost as if he were expecting something. But in a climate like this, President Morty's goons could be anywhere.

Another Morty in a wheelchair answered and sighed when he saw who it was. "Landlord Rick."

"I brought you breakfast, Morty."

"I'm sure you did." Wheelchair Morty said. "Come on in then." He moved aside.

Landlord Rick dashed inside as quickly as he could. "How've you been?"

"Depressed."

"I know you lost your job, Morty but-"

"Dictator Morty _has_ to go." Wheelchair Morty said. "I hate him."

"You made that _real_ clear when you voted for Juggling Rick." Landlord Rick said. He set the plate down on a nearby table.

"So I'm _supposed_ to feel sorry for him because he got shot?" Wheelchair Morty scoffed and shook his head. "Prick probably organised the whole damn thing."

"I suppose I wouldn't put it past him either." Landlord Rick admitted.

"And I lost my job! My livelihood! My everything!" Wheelchair Morty wailed.

Landlord Rick cleared his throat loudly.

"I mean, I got the uh... I got the Nineteen Eighty-Four, but it doesn't really pay anything."

"Unless you want to talk about how great Dictator Morty is, nothing pays, Morty."

"Maybe I should just start dealing drugs again."

"You're not going back to crime." Landlord Rick said sternly. "I swear, you'll only be going back to The Creepy Morty over my dead body."

"What's the point? Nothing matters anyway." Wheelchair Morty reached inside Landlord Rick's pocket.

Landlord Rick, however, was quick in swatting his hand away. "I left my flask in my apartment. I'm not letting you go back to drugs and alcohol. They're not a healthy way to deal with your problems."

"Pfft. Says the _Rick_."

"You're fifteen. You've got your life ahead of you. Don't drink. Don't do drugs." Landlord Rick said.

" _Says the Rick_." Wheelchair Morty said, this time with gritted teeth.

"Morty, look-"

"No, _you_ look!" Wheelchair Morty said, rather aggressively. He slammed his hands down on the table and pulled himself up to his feet. "You don't know what it's like being a Morty! Especially being one like me!" He looked at Landlord Rick furiously.

"No, you're right." Landlord Rick said, backing away, only a step.

Wheelchair Morty leaned on the table and took a step towards Landlord Rick. "I was taken from my family by my Rick! I was _dumped_ on the Citadel! _Forced_ to fend for myself in Mortytown!"

"I'm not your Rick."

"No, My Rick's dead. And I don't give a fuck." He said coldly. "Not that he cared about me. I'm _not_ defective!" He yelled.

Landlord Rick looked awkwardly at Wheelchair Morty. The teenager looked like he was trying not to burst out crying. Whether that was because of withdrawal, painful memories or actual pain, he didn't know. Maybe it was a combination of all three. But because of the way he was holding himself, Landlord Rick was willing to bet it was mainly physical pain.

Wheelchair Morty had been born with freak birth defects that had caused his Beth and Jerry to struggle to cope, being only nineteen at the time of his birth. Jerry's parents had stepped in and mostly raised him. But the list of problems was as long as Morty's arm and the list of surgeries he'd had was longer. Everyone was told he'd never walk. The surgeries were about making him comfortable and making sure his legs grew as he did. So he'd been using a wheelchair ever since he could remember; since he was nearly three.

But with correction-braces, splints, crutches-he could actually stand and walk a few steps. But physically, it took it's toll. It was tiring, draining and worst of all, agonising.

And Landlord Rick knew this.

"Morty, why don't we just sit down?" He calmly suggested.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Wheelchair Morty snapped. "Proof that I'm a defective Morty-"

"I never said you were defective."

"You Ricks are all the same. You don't have to." He sniffled. He took his hand off the table to wipe his eye, but ended up losing his balance and falling into Landlord Rick, without falling over.

"Hey, I got you." Landlord Rick helped Wheelchair Morty back to his feet.

Wheelchair Morty pushed Landlord Rick away. "I don't _need_ your help." He put his hand back on the table for balance.

"Now _you're_ sounding like a Rick." Landlord Rick sighed. "There's no shame in asking for help, Morty."

"I don't need help." Wheelchair Morty said. "I've been using a wheelchair my whole life. Go help stupid Paralysed Morty if you want to help someone."

"I'm not referring to that. I _know_ you're independent. But you _do_ need help." Landlord Rick put his hand gently on Wheelchair Morty's shoulder. "And I'm here when you decide you want it. We all are." He walked to the door, leaving Wheelchair Morty alone.

* * *

Rick was driving his car with Beth in the front passenger seat. Both were looking miserable. And both were looking much younger.

Rick's blue spiked hair wasn't spiked, rather it was combed down to go with his formal look, a pressed navy blue suit. Though it was still blue. Other than that, and the few fewer lines on his face, he looked almost the same.

Beth, meanwhile, had her blonde hair in a ponytail and was wearing no makeup. She was wearing a pink blouse and a light blue skirt, though her arms were folded over her chest. And she only looked to be around Morty's age. Maybe she was younger.

"Come on, Beth. This is the whole damn reason we've been ordered to see a stupid psychiatrist. Be happy." Rick said.

"I don't want to do it." Beth said.

Rick snorted. "Yeah. Like _I_ want to do it either."

"Why do it then?"

"Because your Mom wants us to. As if it'll help with family therapy." Rick said.

"I don't get why I have to be dragged in yours and mom's marital issues." Beth said.

"Because our marital issues are making you depressed or some shit." Rick replied. "Try and be happy."

"No!" Beth exclaimed.

"No?"

"Fucking puberty or some shit." Beth said. "I'm thirteen. Prime age for getting periods."

"Hey! Watch your mouth. I'm not your friend. I'm your father."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Oh like you've actually been _good_ at that job."

"I may not be the best damn father out there, but I care about you and that counts."

"Yeah. Yeah. That counts. Froopyland fucking counts."

"Froopyland isn't real, Beth." Rick blatantly lied. "Your stupid daydreaming is a problem. Psychiatrist probably-probably wants to diagnose you with ADD or something."

"If I have ADD than it's probably because you're such a bad father." Beth said.

"That isn't how you get ADD! You're born with ADD-"

Beth laughed loudly and sarcastically. "I hate you so much."

"Starting to hate you too, Sweetie." Rick parked the car.

"I'm not getting out."

"Fine. Stay here and I'll get the psychiatrist to come to you." Rick opened the car door.

"You do that and I'll drive away."

"You do _that_ and you'll be arrested. Say goodbye to your dream of being a doctor."

Beth snarled and opened the car door. She tried to run away, but was grabbed on the wrist by Rick.

"No escape attempts." He said, not making eye contact with her. Rick dragged he reluctant Beth into the building.

In the waiting area were other parents with their kids. The music playing on the radio was terrible; La Bamba. But it wasn't as bad as the decor, which looked to be a holdover from the nineteen eighties. Beth huffed.

"Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes. Rick and Beth Sanchez. For Dr Miller." Rick said, almost gritting his teeth.

The receptionist went to check the filing cabinet and took out a paper. "Yes, the appointment is for both of you, I see." She handed the form over to Rick, who snatched it.

"Thanks." He said grudgingly.

"Take a seat. Dr Miller will be with you soon."

Beth sat down in an available seat and Rick sat next to her as the music changed to Everybody Wants to Rule the World.

"I hate this song." Rick muttered. "It was everywhere when you were a toddler."

"So this place _is_ where the Eighties are continuing." Beth said.

It caused Rick to smile. "Guess so, Sweetie."

"Dad, I don't want to do this."

"You have to." Rick said. "I don't want to do it either. But I have to."

"Mr Sanchez and Beth Sanchez?" A female voice said. "I'm Dr Miller. I can see you now."

Rick stood up, followed by Beth. They went in after Dr Miller and took a seat in her office.

"So. Why have you been referred to me today?" Dr Miller asked. She took a seat and did her best to look kindly.

"Because my daughter's entering puberty and they're blaming her obvious puberty mood swings on me and my wife's marital problems."

"How does that make you feel, Beth?"

"Like I don't want to be here." Beth said.

"I don't want to be here either, so can we just hurry this up and-"

"Rick, I've read a lot about you."

"I don't care."

Dr Miller picked up her clipboard. "You don't get on well with others." She read.

"Well I'm not getting on with you now."

"Avoids eye contact when possible." Dr Miller looked up at Rick and then back down on the paper. "Does not talk about, or possibly understand, feelings." She looked up at Rick again. "This is why we're here-"

"I don't care." Rick repeated.

Dr Miller inhaled deeply. "Self centred, doesn't relate well to others and has no friends as a result."

"I'm not self centred." Rick said.

Dr Miller simply hummed. "According to your wife, you drink excessively. You have no friends because you lack empathy. And you're strongly obsessed with science, which is putting a strain on your marriage."

"I'm not obsessed-"

"Dad, you're obsessed." Beth said. "You're like... A mad scientist or something. Dr Strangelove."

"This isn't supposed to be about me-it's supposed to be about Beth!"

"I think the problem here isn't Beth, Rick." Dr Miller said calmly.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I think the problem is _you_."

"I don't have a problem-"

"Rick, I believe you have Asperger Syndrome."

"You've met me once and-"

"I have consulted with your psychologist and your psychotherapist, both of whom referred you to me. It is my belief, after meeting you, that you present with Asperger Syndrome."

"Fine." Rick said. "I'll bite. What is it?"

"Asperger Syndrome is a neurodevelopmental disorder, characterised by poor social interaction, a failure to demonstrate empathy and restricted interests."

"There's nothing wrong with me." Rick insisted.

* * *

"Well, a few sessions later she'd revise your diagnosis to Autism." Jessica said as the memory concluded. "So you were, uh... You were wrong, Rick."

"And?" Rick shrugged indifferently.

"Why would you bury that memory in your subconscious?" Jessica asked. "I mean, sure, it slipped out when you were talking to Morty, but-"

"I didn't bury anything." Rick said.

"Nnnno, you did." Jessica nodded. "Pretty sure you did. It _was_ in the Rick's Mindblowers box, after all."

"I hate you."

"Oh. Just wait until you meet my good friend Conscience then."

"Let me guess. It's a cricket." Rick said boredly. "Nah. Pass."

Jessica took the reel off the projector and put it one side. She knelt back down to the box and took another reel from it. "How about this one; Booger Underscore AIDs Fart-Jesus Christ Rick, even your subconscious is badly organised."

"That's _your_ problem." Rick said.

Jessica clicked her tongue. "Your mind. Your problem."

"Yes, I think I know you hate yourself. That's... That's what this one's all about. I think I mean, Christ. Why do you organise-use proper file names. God. If this ends up being about Sum-Sum-"

Rick rose to his feet. "Don't you _dare_ say anything bad about Sum-Sum!"

"I'm that little voice in the back of your head, Rick. Technically I'm not saying anything."

"Good." Rick folded his arms in indignation. "Because she couldn't help it. She was bright. She had her future ahead of her. Then-then she had it all ripped away and it wasn't her fault."

The two of them stood in silence until Jessica sighed. "Yeah. I know." She said. "But you feel it's your fault."

"I don't."

"You do. You feel guilty." Jessica said. "It's okay. You're only human."

"I don't feel guilty." Rick insisted. "I don't."

* * *

 **A/N: No our Morty here. Sorry guys. I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I'll be taking a month off to focus on NaNoWriMo. In the meantime, feel free to speculate and junk.**

 **See you next month!**


	4. Bad Mortys

Rick woke up off the sofa and pulled his lab coat from him. He had been using it as a blanket. It was still dark outside, still night. Rick sighed and took his lab coat as he walked up the stairs, dumping it in Beth and Jerry's room, the room in which he was sleeping in. He sighed and went to go and look in Summer's bedroom, to check up on her; she was still sleeping. Good.

Rick walked back into Beth and Jerry's bedroom and lay down on the empty bed. Picking up his phone from the nightstand, he dialled a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello? Is that Joyce and Leonard Smith?" Rick asked. "Yeah. Yeah, it's Rick Sanchez here. I uh... I can't cope."

* * *

"Good of you to admit that." Jessica said. "You had no idea how to cope with what had happened."

"Don't." Rick snapped.

"What happened again?" Jessica asked. She quickly morphed from Jessica into Summer. "Did Morty try to kill Summer?"

"I mean it." Rick said.

"Did you abandon Morty to die?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Suppose he deserved it after what happened to Summer, right?"

"Shut up!" Rick shouted.

His words echoed in his head as Summer morphed back into Jessica.

"I didn't want it to happen." Rick said, speaking at an acceptable volume. "It-it was an accident. He was-he didn't listen to me."

"Because you know best, right?" Jessica asked.

"He murdered my daughter and her husband! He tried to murder my granddaughter!" Rick argued. "He-he was unhinged... a-and I made him that way."

"Rick. It's not your fault." Jessica said.

"Don't you dare Good Will Hunting me." Rick pushed her away. "I-I fucking hate that movie."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened to the C137 Smiths." Jessica said. "But you can't forget about it either. That past that you thought you'd left behind is here to haunt you again."

"I abandoned Summer." Rick said. "That _was_ my fault."

"Are you growing a conscience?" Jessica asked.

"Am I hell." Rick growled. "Whatever. I don-don't care."

"You and Summer were close."

"Yeah and the Council of Ricks didn't like that. _Dicks_." Rick said with contempt. "But Summer, she was going places. We'd already picked out her college when _it_ happened."

"Ah yes." Jessica said, pulling another home movie from the box. 'Morty Explains It All'.

* * *

Rick was sitting in a hospital waiting room with blood on his clothes and his lab coat. Doctors kept passing by hurriedly, same with nurses. To try and keep himself calm from the panic inside, he was rocking back and forth in his seat. Following the hospital workers with his eyes. He was sober. Disgustingly so. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a drink.

Morty was sitting next to him calmly. Very calmly.

Rick had been forced to lie to the police about what had happened, which was only adding to his worry.

"Rick, why don't you calm down." Morty suggested. "You're rocking again."

"I would if I could, Morty, but I can't." Rick said. "My daughter, your mother, and her idiot are dead. I haven't had a drink in what feels like forever. And I'm still waiting on news for your sister."

"Yeah. Prioritise them over me." Morty scoffed.

"I don't prioritise anyone." Rick snapped back. "You're twelve. Summer's fifteen. You're both orphans now and since I'm your next of kin I have to take care of you." He looked around carefully and lowered his voice to a whisper. "And it's your damn fault."

"I know, Rick. That was the idea." Morty said casually, examining his fingernails.

"You're a monster."

Morty simply shrugged. "They were authority. They got in my way. Didn't you always tell me to eliminate authority that got in my way? Now we can go on adventures all the time."

Rick clenched his jaw. "My daughter is _not_ your authority."

" _Was_ , Rick. She's dead now." Morty said coldly.

Rick lowered his voice again. "Because you beat her head in with a hammer."

"And Jerry's." Morty added. "And Summer's."

"I should have said it was you." Rick folded his arms and turned away from his grandson in disgust.

"You're the one with blood on his jacket." Morty argued. "You had no choice but to provide me an alibi or it would be _you_ in trouble with the law."

Rick stood up and began pacing the waiting area. He took another look at Morty and went over to the nearest nurse.

"I just want to know how my granddaughter Summer Smith is doing." He said in almost a mumble.

* * *

Before the memory could progress, Jessica took the memory down from the projector and put another one on. "That one was getting boring. We might revisit it, but for now, here's 'Booger AIDS Underscore'-dammit, Rick!"

* * *

"Is there anything you can do for her?" Rick asked, practically begging the doctor. "Like-like therapy or something?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr Sanchez." The Doctor said. "In Summer's case, therapy wouldn't work. Her brain damage is too severe. All you can do is look after her and keep her comfortable."

"My granddaughter is better than that." Rick said. "I know she is."

"She's suffered brain damage-"

"You don't have to keep repeating it." Rick said.

"But you don't quite seem to understand the severity." The Doctor said. "Your granddaughter is paralysed, blind, unable to swallow or communicate. Yes, she may be aware of what's going on around her, but her physical limitations alone make therapy not a viable option for her."

"There's got to be something-"

"There isn't." The Doctor said. She paused and observed Rick's behaviour. "I'm sorry Mr Sanchez. I understand this must be hard for you to accept. This whole situation must be extremely distressing."

"You have no idea." Rick said, without a hint of sarcasm.

"I can put you in touch with support groups. People who find themselves caring for a disabled loved one. Or people who are bereaved."

"I don't need support groups." Rick said.

"If you say so, Mr Sanchez." The Doctor sighed. "Maybe I could get support for Morty-"

"My grandson doesn't need support either-"

"He's lost both of his parents and effectively his older sister."

"So I'll put him in therapy." Rick said. "Kid needs it."

"Mr Sanchez." The Doctor put some pamphlets on the table and pushed them towards Rick. "Just think about it, at least."

* * *

Morty lay down on his bed thinking. He was hungry. He hadn't eaten in days. And he was starting to see the need for a resistance army now. Evil Morty was absolutely a dictator and he needed taking down. What the hell did Rick do to him to turn him into this?

"Morty, you're doing that thing again." Summer said.

"What?" Morty asked, coming from his thoughts.

"You're just lying there and staring at the ceiling." Summer said, sitting down on the floor. "I brought you some bread, courtesy of Shop Assistant Rick."

Morty sat up on the bed. "Yeah. Thanks."

Summer handed Morty a plate with a buttered piece of bread on it. "I'm hungry too, Morty. Just fight through it."

"It's not that I'm hungry." Morty said. "I'm just..." He sighed. "Evil Morty was Rick's first Morty. How did he end up the way he did?"

"I don't know, Morty." Summer said. "It doesn't matter anyway. You won't end up like that."

Morty smiled faintly. "Thanks, Summer."

"You're too much of a pushover for that to happen." Summer shrugged and bit into her bread.

Morty frowned at his sister and her lack of tact.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! I'm back! Hope you liked this chapter, but if you didn't, there's more to come!**

 **Up next, Morty goes to Mortytown! Learn more about Peg-Leg Morty! And most excitingly, Jessica goes to school!**


End file.
